


A Hundred Million Reasons

by DragonGirl87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Hero Complex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-War, Pre-Slash, Redemption, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 01:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87
Summary: Post-war the Wizarding World isn't as forgiving as Draco Malfoy thought it might be and he's had enough. He's got a hundred million reasons to give up -- can Harry Potter give him one good reason not to?





	A Hundred Million Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to Lady Gaga's brilliant song "Million Reasons" on repeat these past few days and this story idea popped into my head and refused to leave. Granted, I didn't give it a lot of time to decided whether it wanted to stay or leave but grabbed my laptop and started to furiously type away.
> 
> I think I'm well and truly over my writer's block and am even working on finishing a new chapter for my current WIP "Escaping Reality" -- I'm about half way through the chapter and feeling so good about it *grin*. I'm very excited to finish it up and share it. For now, I'm offering you a little something dark since I haven't been in best place mood-wise these past few days.
> 
> Big thanks go to my girlfriend CB who is just marvellous. Would you believe that everytime she hears that I'm writing, she immediately falls quiet and just lets me get on with it? She bloody well deserves all the credit for this, leave her some love, please! Not too much though, I'll be jealous and start demanding coffee from you ;-)
> 
> Love,  
Selly
> 
> P.S. Those readers that have been with me for a while will get the coffee reference. For those of you who are new, stick around and you'll eventually work it out.

* * *

Draco sank to his knees, vaguely aware of the wet grass underneath him. The morning dew soaked through his tailor-made grey trousers and the cold seeped into his skin and settled in his bones. He looked out over the edge of the cliff and lost himself in the angry sounds of the roaring ocean below.

The heavy wind was strong and biting cold. It was relentless. It wanted him to feel its wrath, and Draco was only too happy to let it have its way with him. Nature’s forces were far better than the ordeal of the last few months.

The end of the war hadn’t brought peace. There were no second chances. The Wizarding World had condemned him. He was an outcast, bullied wherever he went and whatever he did. It didn’t matter that he tried to be different, or that he tried, repeatedly, to show the world that he wasn’t evil and had no sinister intentions.

The Dark Lord had marked him, and even though he was gone, he’d left him with a lifelong reminder of what life would be like. People looked at him with suspicion. They only saw Lucius in him, they saw someone who had blindly followed into Voldemort’s footsteps. Nobody was willing to see past those prejudices.

On paper, the ministry had pardoned him and offered him a second chance. The reality was not so kind.

He’d tried to be brave, to convince people that all he wanted was to live his life peacefully and quietly. He had no interest in the Dark Arts or becoming the next lunatic to lose his mind to power. He didn’t want any attention, and he most definitely had no desire to be in the news or be forced to listen to people talk about him behind his back.

He wanted a life without the persistent shadows of his past mistakes. He wanted a family, children. He wanted to spend more time with his mother and shower her with the love she deserved now that his father was rotting in Azkaban.

He’d visited once. It hadn’t gone well. Lucius had outright condemned him for abandoning century-old Malfoy traditions and any and all pureblood values. Draco had tried to explain himself, had hoped he might manage to reach the part of his father soul and heart that loved him deeply, but he had failed. His father was blinded by hatred and repeatedly accused him of being a traitor unworthy of the family name and fortune. Lucius’ final words, just before Draco had walked out of his cell, had been that he was no Malfoy and least of his son.

Draco had left with his head held high, and he hadn’t looked back. But when he’d arrived home, he’d crumbled in front of the fireplace in his father’s study and cried himself into exhaustion. The next day photographs of his trip to Azkaban had made it to the front page of the Prophet, along with the headline: Like Father, Like Son.

Draco sighed.

He had enough of all the hatred and distrust. This world didn’t want him, and even though he’d tried to escape into the Muggle world and leave magic behind, it hadn’t worked out in his favour. He didn’t know enough to successfully navigate his way around Muggle England and while the thought to abandon life here and start over across the Atlantic in America had seemed enticing for a while, he’d discarded the idea fairly quickly. England was his home, and he didn’t want to leave; however, he also didn’t want to shoulder the burden of all the unfounded hatred directed at him any longer.

It was slowly killing him, and Draco had enough. He wanted it all to end, and he wanted it to end today.

“Draco.”

The very familiar sound of Potter’s voice cut through Draco’s self-deprecating thoughts like a piping hot knife sliced through cold butter. His back straightened and his shoulders tensed. Draco clenched his hands into fists at his sides and slowly turned around. Potter stood less than six feet away from him with his scarlet-red Auror robes billowing around him. His hair was wild and windswept, which wasn’t anything unusual, and his glasses were askew.

None of it seemed to bother him, and Draco noticed the wand Potter held in his hand. It was his old wand. He’d replaced it with a new one, but still missed his ten-inch Hawthorn wand with its unicorn hair core. It was the only wand he’d ever wielded that had never disobeyed him in any shape or form. The wand had chosen him and seeing it in Potter’s hand caused Draco’s chest to tighten. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and forced himself to breathe, then readied himself to spit a scathing insult at Potter but found that his mouth refused to obey him and utter the words, he wanted to hurt Potter with.

“Fuck off, Potter,” he mumbled instead and turned his gaze back to look out over the edge of the high cliff.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Draco ground his teeth together.

“Potter, go find someone else to impress with your hero complex.”

A low chuckle tumbled out of Potter’s mouth, and Draco pressed his lips together.

“I don’t have a hero complex, Draco, I just want to stop you from making a colossal mistake.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Everything.”

Draco huffed out a breath of air but remained otherwise silent.

“Come away from the edge of the cliff, Draco.”

“Stop calling me Draco, you twat.”

Another rumble of low laughter.

It properly irked Draco, but he simply drew in a deep breath through his nose and kept his mouth shut.

“Fine, come away from the edge of the cliff, _Malfoy_. There, is that better?”

“Having fun mocking me, Potter?”

“Loads. It’s my favourite past time. Now, please. Or I’ll drag you away with my bare hands.”

“Are you that sure you’re faster than me?”

“Yes. So, either you come away from there, or we’ll both roll over the edge of that cliff.”

This time, Draco couldn’t stop himself from snorting in an attempt to mask his desire to mock Potter with his laughter.

“How did you even find me?” he asked, determined to change the topic.

“Your wand is strangely partial to you. A simple tracing spell was all it took for it to agree to point me into the direction of your current whereabouts. Listen, Malfoy, if it’s all the same to you, could we have this conversation somewhere else over a hot cup of tea?”

Draco turned his head and rolled his eyes at Potter.

“I don’t want to have tea with you, Potter.”

“But I with you. I’ve a couple of things to say to you. So, humour me and gift me a few hours of your company.”

Draco wanted to turn his head away again and gaze out into the distance, but his eyes remained fixed on Potter’s face. He frowned and shifted slightly.

“What’s stopping you from saying them here?”

“The fact that my balls are about to freeze off and that I’d rather keep that from happening?”

Draco didn’t want to smirk, but the absurdity of Potter’s reason behind insisting on a change of location made it sheer impossible to keep a straight face.

“The Boy Who Lived Without Balls,” he said while trying to suppress his chuckle.

He wasn’t entirely successful, and a strangely distorted sort of laugh rose up into his chest, through his throat and pushed past his lips.

“While I’m sure it would make a good headline, I’d rather not see that in the papers.”

“Admittedly, they’d probably blame me for it.”

Draco rolled his eyes again, then abruptly turned serious and scowled darkly.

“I’m done with it all, Potter. I’ve tried, repeatedly. They’ll never give me the chance to redeem myself.”

“Why do you care about what they say? They’ve been talking about me ever since the day I was born. I don’t give a flying fuck about their opinions. Never have and never will. You’d better do the same.”

“Easier said than done. They haven’t given you a million reasons to give up and stop fighting.”

“Then let me give you one good reason to continue.”

Draco glared daggers, turning the corners of his mouth down and furrowing his brows as he did so.

“What reason could you, _Potter_, possibly have to talk me out of jumping off this cliff?”

Draco practically spat the words out as though they were made of the deadly venom of a black mamba.

Potter let out a sigh and toyed with the Hawthorn wand in his hand. His robes continued to billow in the wind, and he stood sure-footed on the uneven ground.

“For starters, we both know you don’t want to do this, but that’s beside the point. My one good reason is that I want to be friends with you.”

Draco threw his head back and laughed but fell silent when Potter continued to talk, paying no heed to the fact that his offer of friendship had just been mercilessly mocked and silently rejected.

“If you’re going to laugh at least make it believable, Draco. I want to be friends with you. I do realise that this doesn’t sound quite believable, especially because I turned down your previous offer of friendship, but I want to give this a try. You’re not the kind of person to blindly follow me into trouble like Ron and Hermione would. I think I could benefit from having someone around who actually thinks things through first, someone who’ll occasionally talk back and give it to me straight.”

“Occasionally?” Draco questioned. “Don’t you mean more like always, Potter?”

Potter laughed, and although Draco didn’t want to admit it, the sound was music to his ears. It was honest and carefree. There was nothing mocking or sinister about it. Potter was merely showing his amusement, and it had been a long time since Draco had spoken to anyone who found him or his sharp wit and incredible sass entertaining. Potter, too, possessed those qualities and now that they’d both grown up and turned into young man, Draco couldn’t help but think that he’d perhaps met his match, someone who wasn’t afraid to stand up to him and tell him the truth, even if he didn’t want to hear it.

“So, what do you think? Can we continue this conversation elsewhere?”

Draco sighed.

He slowly shuffled, shifted a little and grudgingly rose to his feet.

“I suppose your reason is acceptable, although I reserve the right to retract those words if you pull any of your hero complex nonsense.”

Potter chuckled.

“I told you, I don’t have a hero complex.”

“Yeah right.”

Draco rolled his eyes and took a step backwards. It brought him closer to Potter, who also took a step forward and reaching out, he offered his hand.

“Side-along?”

Draco eyed Potter’s outstretched hand for a few moments, then huffed out a breath of air and took the offered hand.

“Fine, but if you make it so that I throw up, I will hex you immediately.”

“Better make sure I’ll land us somewhere close to a large congregation of Muggles then.”

Draco found Potter’s grin mildly concerning but before he was able to open his mouth to retort something seriously scathing, he felt the familiar tug of Apparition just behind his navel, and for a few seconds his world distorted and turned black as they swivelled around and finally landed in an old, warm kitchen with a crackling fire.

* * *


End file.
